


Head, Shoulders, Shell & Tum (Shell & Tum)

by CringePhase



Category: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Cartoon 2018), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: An attempt on fluff, Anxiety, Dialogue Light, Family Feels, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Good Parent Splinter (TMNT), I Tried, Learning to accept yourself, Parenthood, Prompt Fic, Splinter-Centric, Turtle Tots (TMNT), fluff friday prompt, mild angst due to Splinter's backstory, parental anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:00:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26024599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CringePhase/pseuds/CringePhase
Summary: A fluff exercise done for the prompt: "Scritches"The freshly renamed and reinvented Splinter had never claimed to be prepared or even looking forward to the concept of raising children. In his long-buried life as a Hamato he was determined to let everyone know that he was never going to pass on the family name, and in his freshly buried life as a movie star he claimed he would never have the time to be the father his unborn children would deserve. So therefore, Splinter was in no way prepared for a child.Two months before he chose his newest name in an attempt to move forward with his life, he adopted four without question. To make matters more difficult, none of them were human--at least not fully, he had yet to piece together exactly what that strange Yokai did to all of them. Adopting four turtle mutant children, with his established lackluster parenting expectations, was sure to make for an interesting experience.One of the many things he wasn't prepared for: how much his scaley sons would love (what Blue eventually named) "scritches".
Comments: 28
Kudos: 119





	Head, Shoulders, Shell & Tum (Shell & Tum)

**Head**

After Splinter could no longer pass for a really unfortunately ugly human and they moved to the sewers where they would find and make their forever home, he came upon the discovery with the aid of his smallest son. 

Orange, according to Splinter's incredibly limited knowledge of child development, appeared to be the baby of the bunch; the youngest. Orange was always looking to be held, cherished in every way he deserved to be, so it was only natural that he was the one Splinter figured out first. He had simply been rocking his baby Orange to sleep, the move had been hardest on him after he got used to the background noise of the surface, when he absentmindedly began dragging his nails across his baby's head.

He had been very, very careful with his mutation around his precious boys. He knew how fragile children were, how careful you had to be with them and everytime he looked down at his horrible rat hands he was reminded of how he could be the one to hurt them. This fact terrified him, kept him up at night, caused him to ponder the future of his relationship with these children--his sons.

His blood ran cold at the chirp Orange emitted and he immediately jumped to access the damage, looking for any breaks and ready to sooth any tears, fears haywire. Orange scrunched his face at the disturbance but otherwise seemed unharmed and Splinter could let out a sigh of relief, hand stilling over his heart. As he paused to catch his breath he felt a tiny, clumsy hand reach out towards his.

Splinter looked down at his baby, ready to apologize for rousing him, but found Orange's curious gaze not on his own, but on his hand. He hummed gently to catch his son's attention, and lifted an eyebrow when his son whined and pat at his own head.

"You….want…." He had a guess on what suddenly got Orange into a mood, but he was incredibly confused as to _why._ He looked down at his sickly rat hand, claws long since grown back out, and then back down at his beautiful baby boy. He shouldn't risk it, he knew he shouldn't, but...the possibility of there being even a single benefit from the state he was doomed to be in was intoxicating, and Orange wasn't exactly helping with his pitiful whines and pleading eyes.

He gently resumed scratching at his son's head, movements stiff and ready to pull back at any sign that he was making yet another mistake as a parent. Orange spent a moment basking in the satisfaction of once again getting exactly what he wanted before he began clumsily climbing Splinter's robe, pushing into the claws and seeking their comfort.

"W-Wait, Orange stop that, I could drop you!!" Splinter scolded, stopping to get a better grip on his greedy son and moving to lay down with the baby on his chest, resuming the scritches at Orange's delighted chirp.

Orange went from his satisfied full face smile--the kind that causes him to close his eyes in contentment--to settled and asleep in record time. 

Since that moment, Splinter looked at his claws--and by extension, his mutation--in a new light. If his delicate baby son could benefit from his changes...could he offer the same comfort to his older sons?

**Shoulders**

Splinter began his "experiment" slowly and unsurely, still unable to truly trust himself in his new….quirks. Despite the steady way he attempted to progress with his discovery, he quickly found that head scritches were an Orange-only benefit. His sons, amazing in every way, of course basked in any attention he could give them but none of them seemed as taken as his youngest was with head scritches. Orange would move his entire skull into his hand himself as a way to practically beg for what he wanted, and he would eventually fuss and whine if Splinter pat him anywhere that wasn't exactly where he wanted.

So Splinter had to try something else. He didn't expect to hit the breakthrough he needed with his apparently touch-adverse son, Purple. With his other children Splinter could pat and kiss them in passing but very early in his adopting of the sons he figured out that his softshelled son was an outlier.

Purple didn't _not_ want to be touched, Splinter quickly figured out, he just wanted the freedom to allow or deny any kind of smothering contact. It was something Splinter could understand, having grown up with little to no freedom in his own choices in the Clan. He didn't want that for his sons.

So for Purple, he didn't experiment as much with his scritches than the others. He didn't expect Purple to notice.

He was lounging on his new dumpster jewel of their "household", Purple sitting on the armrest during one of his social moods. The thing Splinter missed the most about being human was the television, and he swore to one day be able to enjoy all of the TV he desired, but for now he partook in parenting books and pet care books alike (at least until he had a better grasp on which his sons would take after). He read out loud to Purple to keep him stimulated, sometimes he wondered if the little one was actually listening and retaining his reading, when his son began to whine.

At this point, Splinter had figured out that different whines had different octaves and tone of voice to mean different things. This one was an annoyed whine--one that Purple used _very_ often. He paused his reading to look over at his son.

Purple, expression focused, was rubbing at his shoulder and whining occasionally, glaring at Splinter's idle hand. A sign that Splinter was getting used to his fatherhood is that he no longer got offended when his children would glare or scowl.

He raised a furry eyebrow and held his hand out gently, giving his son the full control over taking it or leaving it. He was startled when Purple immediately latched onto him and tugged his hand onto the shoulder he was rubbing. What was wrong? Was he hurt?

Splinter immediately looked for any bruise or scrape or any reason his son would be focused on his shoulder, stopping when Purple's face fell into what could only be considered a pout.

That was a new one…. And an adorable one.

"What is wrong, Purple?" He asked gently, absentmindedly rubbing his son's shoulder.

Immediately Purple brightened, reaching out for his other hand. Splinter paused, beginning to put the pieces together, and moved his book to the floor. He quickly replaced his vacant lap with his son and lightly scratched along his son's shoulders and neck, immediately getting satisfied chirps and coos.

His sons….they had different needs. _Of course_ they were different, Splinter didn't know why he had even assumed otherwise!

Splinter was amazed on how his son managed to teach _him_ something so early in life, and he smiled joyfully at both the new information and the pleased face Purple was giving him. Almost as if he knew he just showed Splinter something important.

And it was important, this was about giving his sons comfort and joy in their new home and he was determined to spoil all of his children equally.

**Shell**

Honestly this should have been a no-brainer. In Splinter's defense, he began to figure out his sons' favorite spots for scritches at a better pace after Purple showed him how. Purple had pretty much established himself that he wanted scritches on his shoulders and neck and maybe his chin, and Splinter was actually allowed to give him those more often than his normal kisses. So, for further experimenting, he moved onto his remaining sons.

On the same topic as moving at a better pace, his sons soon began to show interest in wanting to learn how to walk, which is what he was aiding Blue with when he reached another breakthrough.

His other three sons were watching nearby--none having the same energetic drive that Blue had on the topic, and Splinter was periodically helping Blue up and slowly removing his hands to train his balance. More often than not, Blue would immediately try to take some steps and ultimately fall back down, but he did it with a smile the whole time and continued to eagerly beg to try again.

His sons were so adorable and optimistic to grow and thrive despite their unique circumstances, how could Splinter deny them anything?

He chuckled softly at the clapping Blue before him, already reaching out to let him try again. The other boys to the side clapped occasionally along with Blue, happy to be included in the fanfare. Splinter raised him up onto his feet and gently encouraged him to stay still and balance for once, slowly moving his hands away from his body.

Blue, still giggling at the 10 other attempts he gave to learning this new skill, beamed up at his father and held his arms out to help remain balanced. Splinter, however, saw that troublemaker gleam in his eye and prepared for yet another wipeout. Despite knowing for a fact that his sons were the cutest, brightest kids in the world, he still had a habit of underestimating them.

Blue, legs wobbly and posture unsure, leaned to position his center of gravity forward, and kicked his legs out in a panic to keep himself upright. He rapidly crossed the foot distance and practically barreled into his father's lap; Splinter's honed reflexes alone is what caught him before he could hurt himself.

Splinter looked at his son in bewilderment as Blue cheered and laughed, prompting the audience to clap with him. His young, talented boy who couldn't stand on his own...had taken his first steps running.

Oh. So this was pride. This is what being a father was about.

Splinter cheered alongside them, embracing Blue more into his lap and rubbing his knuckles against his shell. He was unsurprised to hear the chirping in response, immediately petting and scratching at his son's shell to congratulate him.

He didn't even regret giving the encouragement when Blue began teaching himself how to run over walking in order to get more. Splinter forgot to lament his loss of humanity, finding his mutated family and life somehow brighter than the one of a movie star.

One day he would consciously realize that.

**Tum**

As what Splinter assumed to be the oldest and most mature son, Red was constantly putting his brothers before himself. Any time Splinter tried to figure out if Red even liked scritches, he would immediately push over when Blue or Orange eagerly interrupted for their turn.

Splinter now realized he needed to eventually learn how to say no, but for now all he wanted to do was spoil them. So he waited until bedtime to strike, which was more difficult than assumed when the boys constantly rile each other up right when most of them are dozing off.

Splinter realized he needed to start working on giving them all their own rooms instead of letting them sleep with him every night.

At the moment, Splinter was the base of a turtle tot pile on an admittedly decent mattress he found in the dump. Purple slept curled around his head, nuzzled into his hair, and Blue and Red were in each of Splinter's arms. Orange, the lightest son currently, slept on his stomach. How any of his kids were comfortable the way that they were, Splinter didn't know. How _he_ was comfortable as they were was the bigger mystery.

He glanced over at his sons, letting out a small sigh of relief as to not wake a finally soundly sleeping Orange. Blue had finally given up the fight as well and seemed to be in a deep slumber, and judging by the lack of movement or fussing by his head Splinter could assume the same for Purple.

Red blinked sleepily in his arm, laid on his shell and hand idly playing with the material of Splinter's sleeve. Already Splinter could tell that Red would soon outgrow Splinter's recently shrinking arm-bed, but that doesn't mean he wouldn't try to fit his kids into his arms. Even if he shrunk down to the size of a real rat, he would still gather up as much as he could of his sons for hugs.

In only a few months, these beautiful and innocent creatures became his world. He already couldn't imagine a life without them. He would do anything for them, even tackle fatherhood. 

….he was a real father now. These were his boys. He realized he had always struggled with family before, but that had ended up not inhibiting his ability to be there for them.

Red, perhaps noticing his father's sudden weapy-eyed state, glanced up at the rat and smiled in a way that would put the sun itself to shame.

Splinter smiled back, blinking away his fond tears and patting at the only part of his oldest that he could reach. Red stilled with a perplexed look before hugging the entire hand against his chest, letting out a soft chirp. Splinter immediately smiled back, trying to slowly wrestle his hand out of the surprisingly strong grip.

"I cannot do it if you hold on like that…" He lightly scolded in a whisper, prompting Red to let go and watch the hand with suspense.

Red sighed in contentment and chirped at the attention. He seemed to have finally pieced together why his brothers liked these so much, and Splinter wouldn't be surprised if Red began to be a little more selfish at seeking out these scritches in the future. And of course Splinter was prepared to make up for the time it took him to find what Red even liked. He quickly leaned down to place a kiss onto the dozing turtle's head, happy that his son was getting the rest he needed as a growing boy.

So one of his sons liked belly rubs. Splinter could hardly find it in himself to be surprised at that. He had long since stopped seeing his sons as simply creatures--it was becoming more and more obvious that his sons, despite being born turtles, had every bit of humanity that he himself possessed. However, they were still expecting to shed on their shells as they grew and they still made those adorable non-human chirping sounds.

So belly, shell, neck, and head scritches were hardly surprising anymore. And now he knew, for each of his sons, not only how they were similar but also how they differed in their preferences.

What united them the most, however, is that Splinter loved them as deeply as he had ever loved.

**+Ears**

As his babies grew up into rascally children, and then into even more chaotic teenagers, Splinter oversaw their progress at every moment. He eventually learned how to say no and how to balance spoiling and decipline. He got his TV privilege back only to spend his days fearing when Purple would mess with it to punish him for having fun, and in time he learned to love himself for who he was _and_ who he became.

Splinter, despite looking forward to their growth and independence, often lamented the early years and practiced in the age-long tradition of wondering where those years went. With growth comes change and there were a few changes that Splinter wasn't entirely prepared for, however there was one thing that simultaneously never changed, and changed for the best.

His boys may eventually outgrow their dependence on their father, and maybe one day they would find lives on their own, but they never outgrew their father himself. Orange still barrels his skull into Splinters hand with a bright smile, Purple still wordlessly asks for a shoulder scratch after removing his Battle Shell for the day, Blue still sprints headfirst into Splinter for Shell scritches, and Red still cuddles as much as he can of himself into Splinter's arms.

Now for what changed: Scritches were not exclusive to the kids, and no one was allowed to talk about it aloud after the day the discovery was made. (The youngins had a group chat to work around this rule.)

They came across this discovery as teenagers, two days after they had put away The Shredder with the aid of Big Mama. All of them were sore and exhausted despite recovering from their wounds quickly, but it was gonna take a couple of lazy days to fully feel like they were getting back to normal. It was an unspoken agreement that they would spend said lazy days together, after the amount of stress and anxiety they had collectively experienced.

Splinter was laying in a pillow fort made by Mikey and Leo, once again the base of a turtle tot (because in his eyes they will always be his babies) pile just as he was many times in their younger days. He was still _very_ sore, but his heart would be more sore if he did not selfishly join their "self-care" practice. On his back on a pile of pillows, he was surrounded by his sons, and their more recent inclusion. On his chest, hugging his middle, Michelangelo. One arm was being cuddled by Leonardo, while his other was acting as a pillow for Raphael. Donatello laid with his head next to his father's, practically buried into his shoulder, and April was a mirror image on his other shoulder.

Splinter was content. They were here, together, in a world they helped protect. They earned this--they deserved this. Splinter was arrogant enough to even demand that they were _owed_ this by the world.

Though, as warm and fuzzy his insides were, his ear would not stop _twitching_ at every little thing. Every noise caught his attention, and while he wasn't necessarily actively anxious about it anymore, he couldn't help the feeling of awareness that would jolt through him. Also, and he knew this was a nitpicky detail, April's hair was settling on his ear and _tickling_ him.

His ear flicked again and he sighed to force himself to relax. They earned this. They deserved this. He was so caught up in his internal mantra that he didn't notice April leaning up.

"You okay, Splints? You seem a little…." She paused to give him an unsure look, prompting Leo to peek his eyes open to access the situation.

"It is nothing, go back to rest." Splinter immediately denied. 

"Whassup, Dad?" Leo lazily spoke up with a lopsided grin, ready to tease his father for staying watch for them.

"HmmnnDad'swhat?" Raph slurred from where he dozed, making Splinter roll his eyes.

"There is nothing wrong, I am just not as sleepy-eyed as you all are. Go back to sleep."

"Something's wrong??" Mikey pulled his face out of his father's robe. "Where??"

Splinter groaned. "Ok. Fine, my ear itches, see nothing wrong. Go back to sleep."

April glanced over to share a signature Look with Donnie, only to find him still lightly snoring into Splinter's shoulder. She sighed with a little shake of her head and moved to fix the issue herself.

"Well, then here. I've got arms left, you big softie." She teased lightly as she scritched at the rat's ears, knowing that this had the potential to further his exasperation and willing to be the one to lighten the situation.

Splinter immediately stilled at the sensation, finding his drive to being irritated at the attention gone for a moment. It...was nice. Comforting. He zoned back in as April elbowed Donatello awake, not even realizing he closed his eyes. He opened them to the amazed and excited eyes of his whole family.

"Wh-what are you all looking at??" 

"Mmnnyeah, whaddarwe all looking at?" Donnie asked, dazed.

"Dad likes scritches!!!!!" Mikey immediately cheered.

"Oh-ho-ho, I CANNOT believe we finally figured out Dad's spot!" Leo followed.

"Wha? I missed scritches with Dad????" Donnie sounded genuinely upset at this news, sitting up with urgency.

"We gotta do it again! April do it again!!" Raph said with a delighted smile on his face.

"H-Hey, wait a minute!!!" Splinter began to protest, cutting off when Leo cuddled back into his arm.

"We've been trying to figure out your spot for ages!"

_What??_

"Yeah," Mikey confirmed, laying back down onto his chest, "we wanted to return the favor."

Splinter was still confused. "Return what favor?? What are you boys talking about?"

"Well, you took care of us, Pops. And you did a good job...we just wanted to take care of you too."

Splinter could feel his heart melting. His beautiful boys cared so much with their entire selves, sometimes he wondered if someone else had actually raised them when he wasn't looking.

"My sons. I am your father. It is my _job_ to care for you." He carefully explained. "There is no favor. I would do it all again in a heartbeat."

"Well, by that logic then it's our jobs as sons to look out for you too." Donnie pointed out, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "There's no one else we'd ever want for a father, so we should show some appreciation for that."

There was a pause as the family stared at Donatello and his weirdly touching point. He finished rubbing his eyes and gave them all a suspicious look at the attention, his sleep drunk brain already moved on.

"That's right," April continued, giving her friend a pass for being freshly woken up. "You deserve the spotlight, Splints. And we wanna give it to you. You deserve some...uh…"

"Scritches." Raphael supplied with a smile.

"Scritches. If you like them."

Splinter was once again face to face (times five) with the expectant and excited beaming smiles of his children. He sighed as he felt his own face grow into a grin. His children were the best, and the cutest.

"Very well, if it means we get any rest toni--"

"Can I have first turn??"

"Leo no fair I want first turn!!!"

"We should establish a timed system. Five minutes each sounds fair."

"I call dibs on Donnie's turn!"

"Wha- _Hey_!!!"

"Boys, boys….he's got two ears."

Splinter sighed as his children all gasped at this information and resigned himself to being the topic of their fascination for at least a couple of days. As much as he tried to be a grump about it, the ear scritches did do _wonders_ for putting his mind truly at ease, and allowing him to focus on the truly important things.

He adored his family. He came by them all under incredible circumstances after a lifetime of believing he had experienced it all. His body went through changes no human should go through, and came out somehow a better rat than he probably was as a human. As a human he was famous, and important. But as a rat he was so much more than that.

He was a father. And he was happy. And he had the guarantee that he would never be alone as long as his children were with him. None of them would ever be alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Splinter gushing over his new babies is a subject I didn't know I wanted. Is it OOC? Who knows. Do I care? Not in the slightest.
> 
> I love writing for Splinter, apparently. He's a fun character to explore. Sort of ran low on time there near the end, might do some editing later when my computer is back. Never really tried to do something with fluff as its core, it was a fun change of pace.
> 
> Anyways don't forget to ask Netflix to stream Rise, or watch it again on Netflix Canada. And #saverottmnt on social medias. ;)


End file.
